Tears Are Something to Hide
by backinthebox
Summary: Her father dies on a Wednesday. Aubrey is back home in the place where she grew up, among people who had seen her grow up, with friends and family, and she feels completely estranged from all of them. A Father's Day story.


Because it's still Father's Day somewhere.

.

* * *

Her father dies on a Wednesday. She's back home in the place where she grew up, among people who had seen her grow up, with friends and family, and she feels completely estranged from all of them.

And that's… a fairly accurate assessment, because Aubrey hasn't been in her hometown in years, not since she came out to her parents, not since her father gave her an ultimatum that would have resulted in her completely dropping out of graduate school, and not since she did what her parents wanted, but chose to stay away to save herself.

But her dad died, and her mom's a shell, and her sister's a mess, and _she's_ the one expected to keep everything together.

So she does. She makes the arrangements, with the hospital and the funeral home. She calls up members of the extended family, accepts the sympathies and condolences, and tells them about the funeral arrangements.

She calls up Chloe, because her best friend is back in the country from saving the world, one impoverished country at a time, and Aubrey needs her to save one more person before she can take a well-deserved break. Aubrey needs someone her family knows to help with the arrangements, to help keep things together, because Aubrey is a lot of things, but steadfast and strong aren't part of those things anymore.

The day before the funeral, the doorbell rings early in the morning and she's engulfed in her best friend's arms. And it's everything, because the Posens are not a family that hugs, and they've all retreated to their individual corners, and the reminder that she's not alone in this means everything to Aubrey in the moment.

But Chloe isn't alone, and ordinarily Aubrey would be pissed at having uninvited guests, but the Barden Bellas are more than guests, even more than friends: they're family, and she doesn't even care what Chloe had to bribe or blackmail them with, but Amy, Ashley, Beca, Cynthia Rose and Lilly follow suit behind Chloe, even though Aubrey's pretty sure they all have jobs, and she doesn't even question why their hugs make her feel like she can get through the next few days fine.

And then she comes face to face with Stacie, and the embrace they share makes Aubrey feel like she can breathe again.

Chloe took one look at the former lovers, and led her friends into the Posen household, having been there several times before, enough to get a grasp of its geography, under the guise of helping figure out what needed to be done.

Stacie held Aubrey with her arms around Aubrey's shoulders, one hand cradling the back of the blonde's head and keeping her close, reveling in their closeness after what feels like too long a period of time. "I'm sorry about your dad."

Aubrey mutely nodded, letting Stacie's embrace loosen emotions she'd held onto too tightly for too long, and she knows – she _knows_ – it's unfair to Stacie, for her to make the younger woman her emotional anchor at the moment, but she can't help but feel everything that Stacie's very presence means. She can't put it into words, certainly not how much it means to her for Stacie to be here, for Stacie to be _here_ for _her_ , especially given the circumstances, and all she can do is hold on and take the moment for what it is.

Because Aubrey can't begin to fathom what it must have taken to get Stacie to show up, and she can only appreciate Stacie even more because of it.

"It's okay." Stacie said softly, feeling the ragged breath that Aubrey took, and when Aubrey's arms tightened around her waist, reflexively held on to Aubrey tighter, as if that would help ease whatever turmoil Aubrey was feeling. "You're okay."

Aubrey took one last shuddering breath, and finally managed to pull back a little away from Stacie, her hands gliding up to Stacie's shoulders and resting there, as if in an attempt to keep her at a certain distance. She looked up, and gave Stacie a faint smile when their eyes met. "I'm so happy to see you."

And that's… that statement doesn't even begin to cover it, doesn't even begin to truly mean what it does, especially given the situation, the circumstances, the reason why Aubrey had called Chloe, why Chloe had brought Stacie, why Stacie was here for Aubrey.

Because it sucks – it _sucks_ – that her dad died, it sucks that her mom and sister are too wrapped up in their grief to do what needs to be done, it sucks that they're all miserable and grieving but they still need to put up appearances, it sucks that's she's back in the town where she grew up and the town that had tried to do its best and keep her within its confines, and it sucks that she's surrounded by family and friends of the family, and until Chloe and Stacie showed up, she'd felt completely adrift.

But still, she's happy to see Stacie.

She's happy to see the younger woman alive and well, that their time apart had evidently done Stacie well. She's happy to see that despite the way they'd broken up, the way Stacie had left - the way Aubrey had let her leave - she still cared about Aubrey enough to be there, to be _here_ , to be with Aubrey when Aubrey needed someone most.

There's a million more things she wanted to say, all the things she'd stored up from the moment they'd broken up, all the many things she swore she would tell Stacie if or when they saw each other again.

What comes out of her mouth is, "have you eaten?"

It's the way Stacie's expression crumbles, the way whatever resolve had been keeping her steadfast in the initial moments of their reunion falls apart, because this – _this_ – had been the woman she had fallen in love with, the Southern girl at heart who showed her concern through food, through feeding the people she cared about, and despite their height difference, despite the fact that she was here for Aubrey, Stacie finds herself back in Aubrey's arms, being held tightly, their arms wrapped around each other and afraid to let go.

It's long minutes after, when Chloe decides she needed to check in on her friends, that she finds them on one of the couches in the living room, sitting beside each other in companionable silence, with Aubrey absently tracing lines on Stacie's right hand. She cleared her throat to gain their attention, and only Aubrey turned to look at her.

"Hey," Chloe started hesitantly, careful not to interrupt the tranquility of the scene before her too much. She'd gambled a little bit, asking Stacie to come, and she hoped she hadn't been wrong to do so. "I saw your list of things to do; I think I remember where some of the places listed are, and CR has her van, we can get started."

Aubrey gave her a soft smile, conveying her appreciation for what Chloe was trying to accomplish. "Yeah, um, give me a minute? Let's go over the list?"

Chloe nodded, smiling back, and retreated once more to the kitchen, leaving Aubrey and Stacie alone.

Stacie, whose gaze had never left Aubrey, regarded her in concern. "Are you getting any sleep?"

Aubrey sighed. "Not really? There are a lot of things to do, stuff to deal with, and Andie tries, but…"

Stacie smiled grimly. "Well, you have us now."

"Yeah." Aubrey returned her smile with a faint one of her own, and looked down at her lap, where Stacie's hand lay, her palm facing up, allowing Aubrey to trace the lines on it. Stacie watched as a shadow passed over Aubrey's expression, and the blonde withdrew her hand, taking away the warmth of her touch, and Stacie reflexively closed her hand, pulling her hand back.

And just like that, the easy intimacy and comfort their mutual presence presented was gone.

"Aubrey—"

Aubrey looked up at her, her eyes betraying the emotional turmoil of the moment that Stacie equally felt, because this…

This was not how either of them imagined they would see each other again.

"I'm sorry." Stacie said softly, hoping those two words communicated everything, all the apologies, the regrets, the sympathy and empathy that the moment required.

And she watches the way Aubrey's eyes flashed with some unreadable emotion, followed by a series of more easily-discernible emotions – sadness, confusion, anger, love – before a confounding calm settled on Aubrey's features, and Stacie's heart breaks when Aubrey obviously closes herself off.

"We should join the others," Aubrey said quietly, getting to her feet, and it takes Stacie a full moment to realize all is not lost.

Because Aubrey holds her hand out to her, and Stacie takes it as she too leaves the couch. She's quick to lace their fingers together, and squeezes Aubrey's hand gently when she does. "Aubrey."

Aubrey looked up at her.

"You're not alone, okay?" Stacie reminded. "You have all of us now. Even Beca. And especially me."

Aubrey gazed at her for a long moment, and nodded. "Thank you."

Which was not quite the response Stacie was looking for, but it was a start.

* * *

Because only Aubrey and Chloe knew their way around town, it became a question of who would go with them, and who got to stay.

In theory, it should be Stacie, since Aubrey's mother and sister knew her, but neither she nor Aubrey could accurately attest to how they felt about Aubrey's ex-girlfriend, considering how they had been bystanders as the relationship deteriorated, steadfast in their refusal to step in. Amy didn't have a verbal filter, Cynthia Rose refused to be a lone black woman in a white, Southern household greeting guests, and Lilly was bound to discomfit not a few of Aubrey's relatives. In the end, Ashley acquiesced, but insisted that either Beca or Stacie stay with her, and going back to the first point, Beca was elected to stay.

Chloe and Aubrey divided their tasks according to location, since Chloe was only familiar with the center of town and not the places away from the main thoroughfare.

And in the ensuing discussion on who would go with whom, in a manner similar to but the direct opposite of picking teams for middle school gym, Aubrey and Chloe listed the pros and cons of taking each one of the girls left.

"You can't bring Stacie, I'll need her to charm people into giving me your stuff." Chloe pointed out, ignoring the offended looks she received from everyone else, implying they did not have similar charm.

"Fine, but I can't bring Cynthia Rose, either, because one of the people I have to talk to uses the 'N' word with extreme prejudice," Aubrey noted.

Chloe frowned. "I can't bring Lilly, though, she would freak people out."

"Yes, but you'll have a better shot with her than having her with me, because at least the people you have to talk to are business people, I have to talk to my dad's friends." Aubrey countered.

"What about Amy? She doesn't have a filter and who knows what she'll tell people."

"Fine, I'll take Amy," Aubrey conceded, before turning to the woman in question. "But I need you to keep your mouth shut, understand me? Nod and smile, don't talk unless you're spoken to, and only answer with yes or no."

Amy frowned. "That doesn't really work for me…"

"Fat Amy." Aubrey said sternly, using the famous nickname that she always used when showing her displeasure with the Tasmanian. "My rules, or you're staying here with your mouth covered in duct tape."

Amy's eyes widened, and she shook her head vigorously.

"I'm going with Chloe," Cynthia Rose suddenly piped up in the wake of Aubrey's momentary return to her high-strung, ultra-demanding form, andher fear was a sentiment seconded by Lilly, who immediately moved closer to the Chloe.

Chloe glanced at Stacie, who was helping to herself to a muffin nearby. "You're okay going with Aubrey and Amy?"

Stacie shrugged. "They'll probably be less racist if we're whiter than titanium dioxide."

Beca frowned at them. "You're exaggerating, right? I mean, yeah, it's the South, but—"

"It's the Deep South, Beca." Aubrey admitted.

"It's the part of the South everyone gets warned about," Chloe added.

Beca glanced at Ashley, who nodded her agreement.

"Cynthia Rose and Lilly won't get bothered too much because people around town know Chloe and know she's just visiting," Aubrey went on to explain. "Having them go with Chloe will minimize how negatively it'll reflect on me or my family, because they'll tell themselves that I can't control who my friend's friends are."

Beca's eyes widened. "No shit?"

Aubrey nodded. "And I'm already fodder for gossip since I've been living in the opposite coast, I don't come home, and now with New York, they're definitely gonna talk."

Stacie shot her a confused look, and glanced at her other friends, none of whom seemed to be too concerned about any of what Aubrey had said.

Chloe smiled at Aubrey. "Meet you back here for lunch?"

Instead of answering, Aubrey turned to Ashley and Beca. "Do you want to risk messing with the kitchen, or do we bring something back?"

Beca only looked bewildered at the question, while Ashley paused to consider. "Bringing something back might be better."

"Okay." Aubrey turned back to Chloe, while reaching for her purse. "I'd rather none of you use a credit card while you're here, so do you have cash?"

Again, Beca looked confused.

"Aubrey doesn't want them to know where any of us are from." Chloe explained to her. "People talk, and this way we're not giving them any information to speculate about."

Once done dispensing an approximate amount of money to Chloe, Aubrey turned back to the girls who were staying. "My mom and sister don't really venture downstairs, but they might. I'm going to go tell them there's a bunch of you here, but if they ask, just tell them we went to Barden together."

Ashley nodded, but Beca frowned, glancing briefly at Stacie before looking at Aubrey. "What if they ask…"

"They don't get to ask questions about that." Aubrey said curtly. "You don't tell them anything."

It was a weird instruction, and one Beca wanted to press on, but she knew it wasn't the time, so instead she nodded.

Aubrey looked at Ashley. "If people bring food, if it's perishable, just shove it in the fridge. Help yourself if anyone brings any baked goods, dump flowers in any of the vases from outside, and if anyone starts looking like they're going to stay, look them in the eye and tell them I need someone to check the memorial park for the funeral plot."

Ashley quirked an eyebrow.

Aubrey smiled weakly. "It's worked so far."

"We'll be fine." Ashley assured her.

Aubrey only looked slightly convinced, but as Chloe directed everyone to start moving, finally acquiesced. "My number's the same, call me if there's any trouble."

Ashley nodded. "We'll try to keep it together 'til you get back."

But once everyone had left, Ashley and Beca turned to each other. "Yikes."

"We can't talk about Stacie?" Beca asked incredulously. "I mean, I knew it was bad, we all know it was bad, but her mom can't even ask?"

"It's the South." Ashley reminded, moving to the refrigerator and opening it to start making space for likely additions. "They gave her an ultimatum about it; she won't give them the satisfaction of informed remorse now."

"What does that accomplish?" Beca prodded curiously.

Ashley glanced at her. "Nothing. But she lives with the choice every day of her life, Beca. They'll have to live with it the way she wants them to."

"But that sucks."

"It does," Ashley shrugged. "But she's our friend, and we respect her personal vendettas."

* * *

Amy had called shotgun, which meant Stacie had to take the back seat, and she wondered if the BMW Aubrey was driving was her own, or a rental.

Stacie had never been to Aubrey's hometown, but she knew from Aubrey's autobiographical anecdotes that it had been prototypically southern, with all the clichés it involved, which was why she hadn't ever pushed the issue.

So she knew without needing to be told not to offer more information than what she was being asked, and knew enough to limit her smiling to a bland and polite level. She also knew better and kept her coat on, even when the help offered to take them, to prevent her natural instinct to reach out to Aubrey and provide any kind of reassurance through touch, or to take her hand and remind her that she wasn't alone.

And there were several times during the day when she wanted to, when the men and women who formed Aubrey's parents' social circles spoke candidly, either uncaring of Aubrey's opinions on such topics, or deliberately daring Aubrey to break unspoken social mores and speak her mind. Stacie saw the way they looked at Aubrey, the way it was easy to discern which ones genuinely liked her, who among them were cautious around Aubrey for whatever reasons, and whom of the people they had spoken to echoed the same ideas Aubrey's father did when he gave Aubrey the ultimatum that fractured and destroyed their entire relationship.

Stacie didn't doubt that Aubrey meant it when she had said she never came home, but she also knew that the Posens put up appearances all the time, and she wondered what her family told their friends about why Aubrey never returned to her hometown.

Mercifully, it was lunchtime, and they were heading back to the Posen household, because Stacie was nearing the end of her rope with the people Aubrey had to grow up listening to, and she could tell from Amy's increasing silence that she was feeling the same way. Amy hadn't even protested when, after their last stop, Stacie took the passenger seat, and she climbed into the back seat with only minimal grumbling.

But at one point Amy leaned forward, and addressed Aubrey. "Aub, I'm just gonna say it? You came out more than just okay if those were the kind of people you had to grow up with."

Aubrey furrowed her brow, slightly confused, and hazarded a quick look away from the road to glance at Amy. "Thanks?"

Stacie smiled, despite knowing exactly what Amy was trying to say, because a confused Aubrey was an Aubrey who endeared herself. "They're really right-wing conservative, aren't they?"

"They're _supremely_ right wing conservatives," Amy corrected, her choice of words implying her suspicions.

Aubrey rolled her eyes. "They're not supremacists."

"So you say, blond and blue-eyed law school graduate." Amy quipped, cackling when Aubrey gave her a look of exasperation.

Stacie, however, frowned in confusion. "When did you go to law school?"

Amy and Aubrey both glanced at her, but Aubrey had to turn her attention back to the road.

Amy answered for her. "Aubs here went full-douchebag, got her dual degrees in Business and Law School." She turned to Aubrey. "Berkeley?"

"Stanford." Aubrey spared another quick glance at Stacie, who frowned at her.

"If you look closely, you can even see the essence of _eau de douche_ that kept her busy for four years." Amy went on, either completely ignorant of the sudden tension between the former couple, or merely powering through the awkwardness in such close confines.

Stacie kept her gaze on Aubrey, suddenly feeling so separate and distant from her, and wishing Amy hadn't been in the car with them, because there was no way to address the feeling without Amy inevitably broadcasting the subject with their friends.

When they got back to Aubrey's house, Stacie turned to Amy. "Can you tell everyone we're right behind you? I need to talk to Aubrey."

Amy glanced at Aubrey, who nodded slightly. "Okay, but if you're gonna kiss and make up, you gotta do it where we can see it, for documentation and stuff."

"Oh my God." Aubrey groaned, while Stacie glared at Amy. "Get out."

Amy chuckled, but obediently left the car with the parting shot of, "don't have sex in the car where people can see you."

"Get out!" Stacie repeated, although Amy had already closed the door behind her.

Once Amy was gone, however, silence descended in the car, leaving them in the awkward tension of needing to talk but not knowing where to start.

Aubrey sighed, and with the level of reluctance likened to pulling teeth, admitted: "You left. And in return I pushed the limits of my dad's ultimatum." She glanced at Stacie, and then out the windshield. "I couldn't stay in LA. But I couldn't leave California. And it's easy to forget how empty your life is when you're working so hard to finish two degrees."

"You've been in California this whole time?" Stacie asked. "Why didn't you ever come when the Bellas met up?" Because many of the Bellas from their group – Beca, Amy, Jessica and Ashley, as well as Stacie and apparently Aubrey – had all ended up in the sunny state, and got together every now and then, especially when any of their friends came by to visit.

"Joint degrees." Aubrey reminded. "And a part-time job. Not exactly a lot of time for socializing."

Stacie studied her for a moment, trying to figure out if that was the entirety of the truth or if there was something Aubrey wasn't telling her. "And now?"

"Now?" Aubrey echoed, glancing over at her, her puzzlement evident.

"You're moving to New York?" Stacie reminded.

Aubrey blew out a breath. "I have an interview, yeah."

"Why? Why now?" Stacie asked.

Aubrey didn't answer right away, looking away, as if the answer was far beyond the simplicity of the question. She flexed her hand against the steering wheel, pensive, before she finally spoke again. "It seems like the right time."

"Now that your dad died?"

Aubrey chuckled, but it was a hollow sound. "Now that I can't stay in California anymore."

"Aubrey-"

Aubrey shook her head, suddenly overwhelmed by emotions she thought she had buried deeply. "You left, Stacie. _You left_. And when you did I swore I would respect that. I promised myself I would leave you alone. And I have. For _years_ I stayed away." She turned to look at Stacie, her face a tumult of emotions. "A month ago I lapsed, I looked you up. I almost asked Beca for your address." She laughed bitterly. "If I'm not over you four years after you left, maybe it's time to put more distance between us."

Stacie looked away, biting her lip, and slightly gnawing on it, a habit Aubrey recognized as a nervous gesture when Stacie was trying to keep herself from blurting something out loud. Finally, she sighed and asked softly, "should I leave?"

Aubrey laughed again, hollowly. "I want more than anything to say maybe you should."

Stacie glanced at her.

Aubrey shook her head. "But now that you're here I feel like I might not make it through tomorrow if you're not with me."

"I'm sorry." And this time, Stacie knew exactly what she was apologizing for, the specifics of it, more than a sweeping apology for everything their relationship encompassed. "If I'd known—"

"You'd still be here." Aubrey interrupted, cutting her off, and when their eyes met, she smiled wryly. "Because as much as I love Chloe, you wouldn't have let me deal with this with just her, or with the Bellas. Not without you."

* * *

The Barden Bellas hadn't gotten any more stealthy in the time since Aubrey had first met them, and when she and Stacie joined them in the house, it was clear they had all been peering out the windows hoping to get a glimpse for any clue of what had ensued in the car.

Lunch was a lot lighter than they all expected, given the awkward weirdness of this reunion, but Chloe had made the call on Aubrey's behalf, and they had answered. They had all hoped it would have been under better circumstances, but they weren't going to leave Chloe and Aubrey to deal with the situation on their own.

And for those of them who had been in California, who had lived with the aftermath of Aubrey and Stacie breaking up, it was an opportunity to come to terms with the fact that they hadn't been allowed the chance to choose sides; Stacie staying away in the immediate aftermath only for Aubrey to leave Los Angeles not soon after. With the singular exception of Beca, they hadn't really known where Aubrey moved to, only that she was still in California and whenever Chloe came by to visit, her flights always came in further up north and came down to LA a week later.

They all knew about the break up, of course. They knew the basic information on the why and how the couple who had somehow managed to start a relationship amidst the _Sturm und Drang_ of Stacie's last year in college, the chaos leading up to Worlds, moved to California alongside many of their friends and, almost immediately, the relationship started to fall apart.

Because Aubrey had come out to her family, and it had been an empty declaration until they found out about her relationship with Stacie; and in return, her father had stipulated that he was not going to pay for graduate school if she was going to "live in sin" with "that woman".

But her father hadn't raised an idiot, and Aubrey had predicted a similar outcome, which was why she had a savings account, and The Lodge was doing well, and it should have been enough to tide her over for at least a semester, two if she and Stacie kept the purse strings tight.

Not getting anywhere in threatening her, her father had redirected his vitriol towards Stacie, who had not grown up with the verbal attacks, the underlying threats, the cutting commentary. Stacie had been unprepared for the onslaught, having every insecurity magnified, or being told that their relationship was the root cause of Aubrey's additional stress – which she had known, even then, had been an awful way to twist the she'd had a front row seat to Aubrey's frustrations, the anxiety attacks that showed no signs of abating, the amount of paperwork applying for scholarships and financial aid, the part-time jobs that were below Aubrey's abilities but the only jobs available for graduate students.

Aubrey had warned her, but Stacie didn't have a whole lifetime's worth of learning to swallowing down the attacks. She hadn't grown up building walls of protection to dull the effects, nor had she lived with the constant fear of having everything taken away when she did not meet expectations.

And she'd caved.

Because for whatever reason, Aubrey couldn't (or wouldn't, Stacie still wasn't sure) just tell her father to back off, to do what he kept threatening to do and just cut her off; she'd tried telling him to stop pestering Stacie, and when he hadn't done that, she hadn't exactly put her foot down. So Stacie had known that Aubrey wasn't ready to just cut ties, and she'd opted to save the both of them from the stress, even if it had broken her heart to do so.

And after that last fight, when Stacie had told Aubrey her decision and they had argued the pros and cons of it, when Aubrey expressed her dismay that Stacie couldn't stay and fight her dad with her, while Stacie just didn't want to have to fight _at all_. The fight had been a reminder to both of them that Aubrey was a _fighter_ , that she was only ever sure of where she stood when she was fighting for or against something; Stacie wasn't sure she could live with the constant struggle when it shouldn't be necessary.

It had been the last time they had seen each other, since UCLA and Caltech had enough distance between them, especially if they both kept busy to avoid the fall out of their break up.

And like most everything else in their relationship, even the break up had been a private matter, their friends only being told that Aubrey's dad had pressured Aubrey into following his will, and as good as she had been at bending people's will, she knew everything she did from him, had learned from a master, and the student had not yet surpassed the teacher. He had found her weakness, and in return she had finished out her semester at UCLA, applying to Stanford in the meantime, and when she had received the acceptance letter, she had pursued the joint degree with a focus that had honestly worried Chloe, reminding her too much of the girl who insisted on following an old, boring ICCA set. Aubrey's revenge on her father had been thorough, milking his bank account for everything it was worth - she had picked an expensive degree in a private school, picked expensive housing, bought a car - all while refusing to even visit home, refusing to give him something to parade around, refusing to let her accomplishments be something he could brag about, refusing to be the good daughter he had molded her to be, toeing the line while living across from it.

And she stayed away from Stacie. Stacie, who hadn't deserved her father's rage, who shouldn't have been in the line of fire, and whom she should have known better and tried harder to protect. After all, Stacie had broken up with her to give Aubrey her best chance; Aubrey at least owed her the peace and quiet that came from not being a target by someone last named Posen.

But she'd missed her. She had missed Stacie with every fiber of her being since they walked out of each others' lives, and when graduation had loomed ahead, with the only invitation she'd bothered to offer had been to _Beca_ , a sub-par substitute for the absent Chloe, while the invitation she had meant to send Stacie remained tucked in the pages of one of her school books.

She had finished school, and the firm where she had taken her internship was willing to take her on… and it all felt empty. She had carried out her vendetta against her father, and Beca had even teased her that she was closer to world domination if she wished, and all Aubrey had wanted to do was to escape to The Lodge, like she had when she had started the retreat, to put the world on hold for a little while.

It had been meant to be a short drive, just to clear her head, but had somehow ended up five hours later in LA, for the first time in ages, and had found herself wondering if Stacie was still in LA, or if she was somewhere else in Southern California, since Beca and the rest of the other Bellas still saw her regularly. If she were, what she would be doing. Had she finished her graduate degree? Was she pursuing her doctorate?

The pitfalls of breaking up was losing a friend, and a few years ago, a few months after they had broken up, in a rather spectacular fit of pique and alcohol-fueled heartbreak, Aubrey had removed Stacie as a friend on Facebook. So she didn't know any of these things. She had also deleted Stacie's number from her phone, even though she still had it memorized.

She had been two digits into dialing the number when she'd caught herself.

She had been about to dial Beca's number when she realized she didn't really know what her endgame was.

But whatever it was, it wasn't going to be in California.

So she sold her car. Packed the things she wanted to keep and couldn't leave behind. Put her things in storage.

And slummed it out for a little while at The Lodge, the one thing she had put together on her own and felt safe in.

But she'd graduated in the top five of her class, which meant an unlimited number of job offers from a lot of companies and law firms in different states, and the East Coast offered the safety of distancing herself from where Stacie Conrad was.

She had put together the offers she liked, set meetings and appointments to look at possible apartments should she take a job in the city and state, and come to terms with some things.

And then her father died on a Wednesday.

And she's in the house where she grew up, seeing people who had watched her grow up, the irony that her father still somehow managed to get her to come home not lost on her. Only now she has the Bellas, she has Chloe, and Stacie still holds her in her arms like home resides in a person.

The Bellas occupy the guest rooms, and since they had brought sleeping bags in case family had beaten them to the rooms, Aubrey and Chloe left them to battle it out for use of the single beds in either room. Chloe, having shared a bed with Aubrey many times in the past, was staying with Aubrey in her room.

Chloe's not sure what to make of the seeming calm Aubrey is demonstrating, and she knows there are maybe three people who can ask her about it without Aubrey getting her defensive, but Stacie's been weird since lunch, and Aubrey's maternal grandparents weren't physically able to make the trip to bury their son-in-law anymore.

They were in the kitchen, well past midnight after having sent the Bellas to sleep in preparation for their early morning the next day, when Chloe finally asked, "Are you okay?"

Aubrey, who was mixing batter for sugar cookies, looked at her skeptically.

Realizing the absurdity of her question - baking, especially sugar cookies, was Aubrey's universal sign for being on the verge of a nervous breakdown - Chloe amended her inquiry and broke it down to several smaller questions. "Should we be trying to get your sister more involved?"

Aubrey grimaced. "I'd really rather not. She's fine dealing with our relatives. Honestly, she can't make a decision to save her life, and this way if anything isn't up to anyone's exacting standards, I bear the brunt of the blame and not have to wait for people to point that out."

"What about your mom?"

Aubrey sighed, pausing in her mixing. "She's… there. I bring her food, and she eats a little, but she mostly just watches TV, like she's not really there. I talked to her sister, but Aunt Jules won't get here until next week to keep her company. I don't know what she'll be like tomorrow."

Chloe frowned. "Do you think they'll try to make you stay? Andie and your mom?"

Aubrey sighed again. "My mom already asked. And I know Andie doesn't want to deal with this on her own."

"And?"

"And what, Chloe?" Aubrey asked dully. "My dad pitted me and my sister against each other from an early age. It's honestly a miracle we even get along now. But she moved back a couple of years ago and she's fine here." She pointed out. "And my mom? She stood by while he threatened my entire future because I was in love and building a life with Stacie. Neither of them did a single thing to stop him from destroying something that made me happy."Aubrey reminded. "I didn't want to come home because of my dad. But I can't stay here, not with them. Not here. Not with everything this town reminds me of."

Chloe regarded her thoughtfully as she sipped from the mug of hot cocoa in her hands. "Want to talk about Stacie?"

"No." Aubrey said curtly, happy with the consistency of her batter, and started to roll out balls, pressing them flat on a cookie sheet. "What were you thinking, bringing her along?"

Chloe gave her a wry look. "That she deserves closure just as much as you do when it comes to your dad." She shrugged. "And you miss her. They called me a miracle worker back with Teachers Without Borders; you're my best friend, you get your own special miracle."

Aubrey glanced at her warily. "Been delving in herbal remedies there, Chloe?"

Chloe glared at her. "Do you or do you not still get that warm and fuzzy feeling from just being around her?"

"Not the point."

"Love is always the point, bestie. And you're still in love with that tall drink of water with legs for days."

Aubrey finished prepping the cookies, and placed the tray in the oven, setting the timer afterwards. "But that's me. Honestly, I can't figure out how she feels."

"Uh, as an outside, objective observer who saw that hug when we got here, it's pretty clear how she feels."

Aubrey, who had just washed her hands, threw her hands up in frustration. "So why didn't she say anything?"

Chloe looked at her in bewilderment. "When?"

"In the car!" Aubrey exclaimed. "I spilled my guts out, in full vivisectional detail, and all she could do was apologize, and I'm sitting there, like a moron, and what is that?"

"She didn't say anything?"

"She offered to leave."

"Why?" Chloe exclaimed incredulously.

Aubrey gestured helplessly. "I don't know!"

"That's stupid, _she's_ stupid. When I called her up she almost got on a plane straight through here, and—"Chloe paused, suddenly realizing the problem. " _Ohhhh._ "

Aubrey lifted an eyebrow.

Chloe tilted her head slightly, deep in thought, and after a while, once more breathed out, " _ohhhhh_."

"Are you going to share with the rest of the class?" Aubrey prodded.

Chloe winced, which was never a good sign. "I might have played the Best Friend card."

Aubrey frowned, confused. "Okay…?"

Chloe bit her lip, before continuing. "After I talked her down from booking a flight straight here, other than the fact that she doesn't really know where you live or how to get around, I made her promise that whatever happened, we're all here as friends, supporting our fellow Bella, doing what we can to help you out."

"But-?"

" _But_ I might have been very hard on the point that she shouldn't use this moment of your vulnerability to try and get back together?" Chloe hazarded.

Aubrey looked unconvinced. "You think she wants to get back together?"

"Aubrey, she didn't want to break up in the first place." Chloe reminded. "And you know why she did, you know why she felt she had to. And before you say something stupid like why she let four years pass, it's because she's been working hard so that your dad can't just interfere with your lives again."

"She didn't even know I was in California." Aubrey argued.

"Because she felt like she didn't have the right to know. Or even to ask. Aubrey, don't you dare minimize what she felt for you. You know why she left."

Aubrey conceded to Chloe's argument, and picked up her own mug of hot cocoa, taking a sip, before she paused. "Did you spike this?"

"Of course I did." Chloe replied plainly, as if Aubrey was ridiculous for even asking. She took a sip of her own drink. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know." Aubrey confessed, turning towards the oven only to stop herself and stayed in place. "I mean, what do I do? What if we're just holding on to what could have been? What if we're too different now? What if—"

"What if you're over-thinking things and just refusing to admit that you could be happy without having to fight for it?" Chloe filled in for her knowingly. "Aubrey, can you honestly say that there's a version of Stacie that you wouldn't want to be with, anyway? Yeah, four years is a long time, but think of it this way: you get to fall in love with her all over again. Like you did when you saw her again at The Lodge. Like you did each time we spoke on the phone when you were together and you answered my question of how your day was with something she did."

Aubrey was momentarily distracted from self-destruct mode to address the accusation. "I wasn't that bad."

Chloe shot her a wry look. "Did I ever need to know that Stacie leaves you notes to find over the course of the day? Or that she dices, not mashes, bananas before mixing it in pancake batter? How is knowing Stacie Conrad's shampoo selection supposed to benefit my life?"

"We lived together."

Both women spun to face the direction of the doorway of the kitchen, and found Stacie standing there with an amused expression. She strode into the kitchen, ignoring the surprised looks on Aubrey and Chloe's faces. "And you used to use my hair conditioner, roomie. I'm a little hurt that you never learned my shampoo selection."

The two older Bellas only watched her as she filled a glass with water and drank it, refilled it, and took a smaller sip before addressing them. "What's with the midnight pow-wow?"

Answering her question, the oven timer went off with a small buzz.

Stacie glanced at Aubrey. "You were baking?"

"Sugar cookies." Aubrey admitted.

Stacie nodded sympathetically, and offered her a weak smile. "Need help cleaning up?"

Aubrey shook her head, even as she moved towards the oven.

"Hey."

Aubrey turned, in time to catch the pair of oven mitts Stacie tossed towards her.

"Careful." Stacie reminded.

Aubrey smiled at her gratefully, and retrieved the tray.

"Couldn't sleep?" Chloe ventured, addressing Stacie.

"Ashley keeps moving." Stacie answered. "Better than Lilly kicking me, but not by a lot."

"Oh, do what I do," Chloe suggested. "And hold on tight."

Stacie looked doubtful.

"She hugs even when she sleeps." Aubrey told Stacie as she placed the baking tray on the kitchen island.

"I'm like an octopus." Chloe said brightly.

"Or a boa constrictor." Aubrey added, laughing lightly when Chloe glared at her.

Stacie lifted an eyebrow, but only shook her head. "I don't really like…"

Chloe did not miss the quick glance Aubrey and Stacie shared, belying the truth and accuracy of the statement Stacie didn't finish. She hadn't liked Aubrey's father very much the handful of times she had encountered him, but she had understood the complex dynamic involved, which was the only reason why she had stopped short of hating him. That had changed when she had found out how he had deliberately gone after Aubrey's relationship with Stacie, causing them to break up. She wasn't happy he had died, but she couldn't deny she felt a sense of relief about it. "Everything's set for tomorrow?"

"I think so." Aubrey admitted, moving cookies from the baking tray to a cooling tray. She slapped Stacie's hand away when she tried to grab one. "Stop it, it's still hot." She turned back to Chloe. "But would you mind staying here, while we go ahead, and make sure things are fine on this end?"

Chloe frowned. "You don't want me to go with you?"

"I do." Aubrey quickly assured her. "But I need someone I trust here, and you're the only person my family knows. My cousin Eric will pick you up."

Stacie glanced at her. "If you want Chloe with you…"

"No, they'll… they'll listen to Chloe." Aubrey told her, choosing her words carefully. "You're sticking to the other Bellas as much as possible."

"Okay, but why?"

"Because I don't know what my mom and sister will have to say to you. And I'm not setting you up for that kind of confrontation if I can help it." Aubrey informed her. "So, please? Let Chloe deal with them."

"Okay." Stacie said quickly, reaching out and rubbing Aubrey's arm reassuringly. When their gazes met, she smiled warmly. "Whatever you say. It's okay."

Chloe watched them, at the way their entire body language and statements belied Stacie's promise not to use the visit as a means for reconciliation or Aubrey's own hesitation to patch things up with Stacie, and wondered if she should be intervening even more. Instead, she pursed her lips and asked, "Will you need Beca?"

"The tiny, scrawny thing that can't carry half her weight?" Aubrey mused, looking away from Stacie to turn to her. "Not really, but I really want to see her face watching the preparations."

"You think it'll be that much of a shock to her?" Chloe asked.

"I think four years in Georgia hadn't prepared her for the Deep South." Aubrey admitted. She studied Chloe. "Picking up some old habits, Chloe?"

Chloe scoffed. "No, but I'd like some company in dealing with your mom and Andrea." She made a face at Aubrey. "And don't pretend you still don't get along with Beca, Aubrey. There's no reason for her to pick to work in a San Francisco studio that often."

"We get along because you literally told both us to look after each other, complete with puppy-dog eyes and veiled threats to our person." Aubrey retorted.

"You could have at least let her bring anyone else to your graduation, her pictures were mostly the back of people's heads." Chloe complained.

"I didn't want her there _at all_ , you were the one who told her to show up and co-opt your invitation."

Chloe stopped short of making her next argument, realizing that Stacie was avidly listening, and the point she had been about to put forth was more telling than Aubrey might be willing to let Stacie know.

Except Stacie was smarter and sharper than she purported to be, and she frowned at Aubrey. "Who else went to your graduation?"

Aubrey froze; the commencement ceremony at Stanford was the summation and culmination of her life the past four years, achieving something she had worked so hard for and accomplishing it without her family, with only Beca as a stand-in because Chloe was away, and the only friends she really had were her classmates and people she'd met in different student organizations or study groups. And an invitation tucked in one of her books.

Stacie glanced at Chloe, who carefully avoided her gaze, and returned her attention to Aubrey. "Aubrey?"

Aubrey, who hadn't turned away from Chloe, met her best friend's gaze, and Chloe's expression was clear.

Chloe was using the Best Friend card once more, but this time it was in direct opposition to why she had used it with Stacie.

Chloe smiled at Aubrey reassuringly, and picked up her mug. "You two need to talk." She stood up, and gave Aubrey a quick hug, kissing her cheek. "Be honest, okay?"

Aubrey nodded.

Chloe turned to Stacie as she left. "Hear her out?"

Stacie smiled at her, although she was confused at what exactly was happening. She had only wanted a glass of water, hoping that staying hydrated would balance out her lack of sleep, except she'd heard Aubrey and Chloe's voices, and Chloe had been talking about how she prepared pancakes and… her toiletries? and she had seen fit to interrupt.

And now Chloe was leaving her alone with Aubrey, who still hadn't looked at Stacie since she'd asked about Aubrey's graduation ceremony.

Finally, Aubrey turned to look at Stacie. "Do you want to hear this now, or would you rather sleep?"

Stacie gave her a look of dull incredulity. "Really?"

Aubrey smiled, acknowledging the incredulous response. "Wait here." And then she left the kitchen, only to return a few minutes later with a blanket in hand. She picked up her mug, refilling it with the last of the cocoa, and motioned for Stacie to join her outside. Stacie hastily grabbed the nearest container she could find, grabbed a handful of cookies, and promptly followed Aubrey out the door.

Stacie had never been to Aubrey's hometown, and until she had arrived with the rest of the Bellas, had never even seen Aubrey's parents' house; but she'd known from anecdotal information that Aubrey had grown up in an affluent neighborhood, the kind of neighborhood where the term "next door" was at least a block away, and Aubrey and her sister had had to entertain themselves, and had enough space in the family property to do exactly that. So she wasn't exactly surprised when the backyard of Aubrey's family home was a vast expanse that had a pathway and everything, a string of lights leading the way. There was a wading pool to the side, a garden, garden shed, _and an actual greenhouse_ , a swing set, and finally, a small gazebo away from the main area, furthest from the house, and hidden from view by the greenhouse and garden shed. It was rough and weathered, but held its own unique charm that made it feel warm and cozy, even at the late hour.

Stacie took a moment to glance around the structure, helped only by moonlight and the faint illumination coming from the path, before she turned to Aubrey. "This is yours."

Aubrey smiled wistfully, glancing around the interior, before turning to Stacie and nodding. "My dad made it for me."

Stacie nodded, and walked further inside, placing her cookies on a small table near the bench in one corner. She ran a hand over the wood paneling, before turning to Aubrey. "What did you—"

"I'm sorry."

Stacie stopped short, and turned to Aubrey curiously.

Aubrey placed her mug and the blanket on the bench to the side, freeing up her hands as she wrung them together in an anxious gesture. "I know I screwed up, not trying harder to stand up to my dad. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let it get that far, and I shouldn't have let it get to the point that you were on the receiving end. I should have put a stop to it, and I didn't, and I'm sorry. You deserved better than that."

Stacie frowned. "Why didn't you?"

"Because you spend your entire life learning to choose your battles." Aubrey answered plainly. She shrugged helplessly. "Learning when to fight. Learning there are just some things you can't win."

"And some things you shouldn't have to fight for." Stacie pointed out. "Aubrey..." She sighed. "It was starting to feel like you were just dragging out the fight to _have_ the fight. And sometimes it felt like you were letting him win."

Aubrey laughed bitterly. "You live with it your entire life, and you realize there's no winning sometimes." She shook her head. "But you're right, I could have ended it then and there. I should have." She exhaled. "I guess I was afraid of losing him, losing _them_ , and losing everything that meant, because… what would I have, afterwards?"

Stacie frowned. "After… _what_?"

Aubrey smiled sadly. "After you realize I'm nothing without my parents?"

Stacie's countenance faltered, and the distance she had put between herself and Aubrey suddenly seemed to wide; as she quickly closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around Aubrey as if doing so would keep that kind of thinking at bay. "Don't say that."

Aubrey reached up, framing Stacie's jaw with her hands and holding her gaze as she continued, whispering into the few inches between them, "I'm sorry I didn't fight harder. For letting you go. For not trying harder to make you stay."

"It's fine. We're fine." Stacie said softly, shaking her head. "You don't… It's okay. You don't have to be sorry for anything. I understand now. I understand everything."She bent down, pressing their foreheads together, their proximity and the contact making her feel every ragged breath Aubrey took, trying to keep her breaths even, and closing her eyes in a lousy attempt at trying to stop her own tears from falling. "We're here now."

"I'm sorry I didn't call. Or write. Or tell you I missed you every fucking day since you left." Aubrey said brokenly, because despite what Stacie had said, there were apologies she had been storing up for four years, all coming to the fore, that she felt needed to be said. That she thought Stacie should hear. "If I ever, _ever_ , made you feel like you were anything less than the most important person, most important thing, in my life, whether or not we were together, I'm sorry it took me this whole time to make up for it."

"Aubrey?"

"Stace."

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please."

It's not fireworks, or explosions, white light happening behind closed eyes. From the start, despite the level of anticipation, the waiting, the thrill and excitement of their attraction and the heightened emotions involved, their kisses had always been marked by a gentle passion, of comfort; their lust always tempered by something far beyond their physical attraction.

They called it love, and it felt a lot like coming home.

* * *

"So how'd you end up with a gazebo?" Stacie asked, long minutes later, cuddled up with her back pressed against Aubrey's front, the two of them sharing the blanket. She watched Aubrey take a sip from her mug, before taking the mug to hold it in her hands.

"Andie got the swing set." Aubrey explained. "I wanted a tree house, but that was the year I broke my arm, so my dad wasn't going to increase the risk of me doing anything to have that happen again."

"You broke your arm?"

"Yes."

"How old were you?"

"Nine or ten."

"Please tell me it was an embarrassing story."

"Lacrosse accident."

"You played lacrosse?"

"Well, not after I broke my arm." Actually, she had returned to the team when she recovered, except her father never made it to another game. She had quit not long after realizing that.

Stacie leaned away from Aubrey, and studied her face. "An accident, huh? Did they deserve it?"

Aubrey shook away the reason why she had quit, and matched Stacie's teasing joviality. "They always deserve it."

Stacie chuckled, and returned to her previous position against Aubrey. "Break your arm, get a gazebo. Fair deal."

"Yeah." Aubrey said softly, and pressed a kiss on Stacie's shoulder. She rested her chin on Stacie's shoulder, pensive, and then sighed against her skin. "He wasn't always terrible, you know."

Stacie remained quiet.

"He was hard on me and my sister, but he'd go from telling me that if I was going to play a sport, I had to make it to the team, to yelling at the referee and the other team's coach - and _my_ coach, now that I think about it - for letting me get hurt. He bought my sister a swing set when she finished the year without a single failing grade, but he built this thing, because I finished at the top of my class." Aubrey told Stacie softly. "I watched him build this, slowly, every day with his own hands, because he felt bad that he wouldn't give me a tree house. When I wouldn't talk to him because Andie got the swing set she'd wanted, and I got this cheap replacement for a tree house."

Stacie looked down, and reached down to tangle her fingers with Aubrey's, resting their hands on the blanket around her stomach. "He's your dad, Aubrey. You don't need to explain."

"I know. I _know_ , and I love you for it, to know I don't need to." Aubrey replied. "But I feel like… like I actually do. I don't want him to just be the guy who broke us up, who said all those things, who made both of us choose between…"

"What was right and what was easy?" Stacie offered.

"It wasn't easy." Aubrey noted.

"It wasn't right, either." Stacie stated. "I mean, was it the gay thing? Was it me? Did I not meet some Posen standard of quality? Did my ancestry reveal I'm more Redcoat than colonist?"

"It wasn't you." Aubrey assured her. "You were an accessory to the fact. Because it's one thing for me to come out and tell them I'm gay, but it's a totally different story to realize they could be explaining their daughter's female partner to their very conservative, very Christian, friends and family. My father had big plans for me. Explaining a possible daughter-in-law wasn't part of those plans."

Stacie paused, and turned to look at her. "Was that—"

"No."

"Okay." Stacie pecked her lips quickly, and turned back around. "Do you think he would have ever come around?"

"No."

"That's honest."

Aubrey smiled, and pressed a kiss to Stacie's temple. "This wasn't a battle that anyone was going to win, Stacie. He never would have stopped pushing, whether or not I gave in. If not you, it was always going to be _something_."

"Yeah, like what?"

Aubrey sighed. "Like my choice of law firm to do my internship. Like choosing to work at a social justice group one summer instead of coming home. The subjects I chose to study. Like he was forcing me to get into government, and even had me scheduled for an interview with the local governor's office and I had to send them an apology letter because there was no way I was going to stay here."

Stacie paused, squeezed Aubrey's hand, and asked, "But why New York?"

"Because it's far enough from LA and big enough to get lost in?" Aubrey shrugged. "It's New York or Chicago, really."

"No staying in California, huh?"

"I don't…" Aubrey sighed, tightening her arms around Stacie. "It's the place where I lost you, I don't know if I can stay there."

"Even now?" Stacie asked softly.

"I don't know." Aubrey admitted. "I want to say I'd stay, since that's where you are, but I feel like California and I are done." She sighed. "But I know you have a life there, with a job, and I wouldn't ask you to just—"

"You don't know what I do, do you?"

"You do research for a tech group."

Stacie snorted her amusement. "That's the simple way of saying it. But the point is, I'm one of very few people who does what I do. I can live in a remote cabin in the middle of the woods and I'll still get jobs."

Aubrey turned to her, and lifted an eyebrow.

Stacie smiled sheepishly, turning to face her. "In case you decided to stay at The Lodge forever? I don't know."

Aubrey groaned, before leaning close and kissing Stacie. "Why did we have to wait for Chloe to push us back together?"

"Because I needed to be someone who could face down your parents and know I'm the right person for you, no matter what they said." Stacie answered, grabbing the back of Aubrey's neck and keeping her close. "And you needed to finish your fancy degree and get over whatever issue you had with your dad."

Aubrey sighed against her lips. "I didn't know how to start trying to get you back."

"I was worried I'll never find you again."

"You never asked Beca?"

"Yeah, what's up with you and Beca?" Stacie questioned. "Since when could she ask the hard questions and not get her head chewed off?"

Aubrey rolled her eyes. "Chloe made us agree to look out for each other and hang out. Said she'd feel better knowing her best friends were getting along and missing her more."

Stacie laughed. "That _does_ sound like Chloe."

Aubrey smiled, watching her. "I've missed your laugh."

Stacie smiled back at her. "I've missed you every fucking day since I left, too."

Aubrey's smile softened from fond amusement to a gentle affection, and she basked in Stacie's presence, her touch, the fact that she could hold Stacie like this and be happy. "I love you."

Stacie kissed her, little more than a quick brush of their lips together, but somehow conveying the depth of her feelings for Aubrey. "I love you too."

She watched as Aubrey's perfectly content smile widened briefly at the statement, before slowly fading to a deep melancholy, and knew exactly what was going through her mind.

"Ready for the funeral tomorrow?"

"You mean later, and I don't know." Aubrey answered. She leaned into Stacie's touch as Stacie brushed a strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind Aubrey's ear before cupping her cheek. "I've hated my father for the past four years, but I loved him. He was my dad, you know?"

Stacie smiled grimly. "I know." Stacie offered her an encouraging smile. "But you won't be alone, OK? I'll be right there with you. And Chloe's been away for years, she owes us."

Aubrey gave her a weak smile, but promptly sighed. "But as brutal as the funeral's going to be… it's what happens after that I'm worried about."

Stacie frowned. "What happens after?"

"That's exactly what I don't know." Aubrey admitted.

* * *

The Bellas all take comfort in the fact that universe seemed to be on Aubrey's side that day, as the flowers were perfectly arranged, the cemetery looked especially peaceful, and the chapel was comforting and not particularly imposing.

The memorial service was a simple affair: a small prayer, words from her father's best friend, and then to the grave site for the burial. Aubrey hadn't wanted a long, drawn-out service, not knowing how well her mother would deal with the ceremony, and she personally did not need to hear all the many ways people would say how her father had been an exceptional citizen and how he had been so proud of his children.

She remembered meeting the funeral director for the first time, and finding out her father had already picked out most of the details of his funeral, including his casket, and it had struck her then, and she could roll her eyes now, how her father had been intent on controlling every last detail of his life, down to the box he would be buried in. And yet he had not specified in his pre-planned funeral package the details of his interment, the funeral service he would have preferred, if visitations or viewings were included. She had wondered if he had thought his wife would want a traditional service and leave it up to her, or if he'd believed there would be a demand for visitations.

She wondered if he'd even considered the possibility that his prodigal child would be the one to make the arrangements, and make it so that the whole affair would be over and done with quickly. She wondered if the man she was burying was the man she had known when she was younger, who kept to himself and focused on hard work and his own ambition, who saw no need for the pomp of ceremony; or the man he later on became, the self-made man who had achieved so much and became a cornerstone of their town, who had expected great things from his two daughters but was constantly disappointed by them, the eldest for her lack of ambition, the younger for her constant failure to reach her own exacting standards, standards she had learned from him.

Sitting with her friends during the service, she kept her face an impassive mask, taking comfort in Stacie's hand in her own, while Chloe held the other, constantly looking out for her; providing Aubrey with the plausible explanation that she was being reliant on her friends and drawing strength and comfort from them, that it wasn't because her friends were closer to her at that moment than either her mother or sister were.

She hadn't wanted one, but Aubrey had arranged for a post-funeral reception at a local country club, giving the guests the opportunity to catch up, get reacquainted, talk about her father in a situation that she didn't have to sit through herself. Since she doubted she would be anywhere close to subtle if she had Stacie beside her, Aubrey kept Chloe close by as she talked to friends and family who kept coming up to them to talk, wishing she and Chloe were hanging out with the Bellas instead.

But she knows her role, knows her obligations. So she grins and bears it. She stays.

She's forever grateful when the Bellas start rotating among themselves who would join her and Chloe in the main function room, reminding the guests that she may have returned home and once more played the role of the good daughter, but she had a story now, and she had friends whose loyalty was to _her_ , and not the town.

* * *

"Aubrey."

Her mother's voice called her attention as they left the reception, as guests, friends and family piled into waiting cars, as Aubrey was about to join her friends in Cynthia Rose's van to head somewhere – anywhere – else, a general consensus among friends that Aubrey needed to escape the pervasive atmosphere that her father's funeral.

Aubrey looked at Chloe, hesitant, but Chloe offered her an encouraging smile, reminding her that she had her best friend with her, that there was nothing her mother could say that Chloe would not be above turning into an argument, and that in the worst case, Aubrey had a whole faction of Barden Bellas just waiting to be called. And with that kind of back up, how could Aubrey not feel just a little reassured? She turned, and faced her mother, who had once been the most important woman in her life, the woman she had once most admired; whom she had seen at her lowest four years ago, whom she had seen at her weakest the past few days. "Mom."

Her mother glanced at the van that had seen better days, a hint of wariness crossing her features. Aubrey had been able to arrange chauffeur services for family who had flown in and were staying in a local inn, surely Aubrey could have arranged a similar service for her friends? But instead of addressing the matter, she indicated the car waiting for her and Andrea, and apparently Aubrey. "Aren't you joining us?"

 _Ew, no._ Aubrey shot a glance to the side at Ashley, who had blurted it out, expressing what all the Bellas were thinking. Ashley smiled apologetically, and Aubrey turned to her mother. "I—"

Her mother's gaze flickered over the gathered group, landing conspicuously on Stacie, before flitting away back towards Aubrey. "Your friend can come."

Stacie arched an eyebrow, because, _really_? Letting her in closed confines with Aubrey's mother and sister was a disaster waiting to happen.

"That's not going to happen." Aubrey said firmly. She turned to Stacie. "Stay with the Bellas."

"Are you kidding?" Beca asked incredulously. "Aubrey."

Aubrey shot her a look, and turned to Chloe, shoving her purse at Chloe after claiming her cellphone. "Buy alcohol. I think we're going to need it."

Chloe frowned. "Beer?"

"Or hard liquor." Aubrey nodded. "I'll see you at the house."

"Aubrey." Stacie cut in.

Aubrey looked up at her, and offered her a faint, reassuring smile. "It'll be fine. I promise."

The look Stacie gave her was heavy with meaning. "We have tomorrow to figure out."

Aubrey's smile grew, matched by a similar growing one on Stacie's, and the gathered Barden Bellas knew that in almost any other situation, the two would have been making out by now.

But they were in the South, surrounded by far to moderate right-wing conservatives, and for all her recent rebellion, Aubrey still knew her place, and still played the game. And more than ever, she was doing it not for herself, but for her family.

Aubrey climbed into the town car with her mother, her sister already waiting inside. When no conversation seemed to be forthcoming, Aubrey sank back into the car seat, leaning against the car door and closing her eyes. She and Stacie had barely slept, maybe a couple of minutes at a time, mostly catching up and talking until they were greeted by the rising sun, and then they had started the day by making breakfast for the Bellas. Aubrey had no idea why what was sustaining Stacie, but she'd pulled off multiple-day all-nighters often in the past four years, so she knew how to keep it together as long as she had to before the inevitable crash.

"Couldn't you wait before you brought her back into our lives?" Her mother asked wearily, breaking the silence.

Aubrey couldn't help but smile. "No." She opened her eyes, and inclined her head to look at her mother beside her. "And if you must know, I called Chloe. The Bellas came when she called them."

"This is a family gathering." Her mother reminded.

"And they are to me. The Bellas are family." Aubrey replied.

In front of them, Andie gave a slight snort of amusement, momentarily drawing her mother's attention, and she coughed to cover it up. "Sorry." When she glanced at Aubrey, their eyes meeting, her older sister mouthed, " _family_."

Aubrey rolled her eyes at the stupid joke, but she was glad her sister wasn't as cowed into submission by their mom as she had been by their dad.

Her mother sighed, seeming to come to the realization that she was outnumbered in the car. She turned to Aubrey. "Are you done now? Are you finished being angry with us now?"

Aubrey groaned. "Mom, it's not that simple."

"Aubrey, our daughter finished graduate school with honors without us present. Your father died without the confirmation that you finished at Stanford. Did your father and I really deserve that?"

"Or me." Andie piped in.

Aubrey cast upon her a quick, withering glare before she turned back to her mother. "Did I deserve to have my entire future threatened because of who I'm in love with?"

"She's just a girl."

Both Andie and Aubrey gave her a wildly disbelieving look.

"That was the point?" Andie reminded. Aubrey gestured at her, as if to say, 'See?'

"I would have liked to watch my daughter graduate from Stanford." Her mother sniffed. "And your father was disappointed when we realized you had graduated without us knowing about it."

"I mentioned it." Aubrey muttered.

"To explain the additional expense for graduation, I know."

Aubrey crossed her arms. "You could have asked."

"And be reminded that you amuse us only under duress?" Her mother remarked.

Aubrey looked out the window sulkily.

Andie glanced from her mother, to her sister, and back, before noting, "You were quick to use dad's graduation present, though."

Aubrey turned to frown at her.

"The Bimmer?" Andie pointed out. "Dad went against good old gas-guzzling American Ford just for you."

Aubrey raised an eyebrow.

"Because he figured the girl who made him rig solar panels on her not-a-tree-house was going to prefer a hybrid." Andie observed. "He was going to drive that thing to your campsite whether you wanted it or not."

Well, it's not like she didn't _want_ it. Because she did: There were three cars in their garage and she had picked it to use while she was in town. But it kind of broke the rules of what she'd sworn to herself after she graduated.

She just doesn't know what to make of it, having believed this whole time that her father had bought it for her mom, or for Andie herself. She'd never stopped to consider that despite their cold war, despite the way they had grown apart, grown so distant from each other, that he had still known the girl he had raised, the girl he had wanted to protect from any future accidents and given a gazebo instead of the desired tree house.

Aubrey glanced out the window, briefly glancing behind them hoping for a glimpse of Cynthia Rose's van but not getting it. She glanced at the other people in the car with her, but they were both otherwise preoccupied. She unlocked her phone, and typed a message to Stacie.

 _I wish you were here._

The answer came quickly.

 _I'm fine here, thanks._

Aubrey frowned, confused, and another message came in almost instantaneously.

 _I meant I wish I was with you too, baby. That was a typo._

Aubrey smiled, and typed out a reply. _Dork_.

The reply made her smile grow wider. _I love you too._

* * *

She loved them, really, but she had absolutely no idea how she ended up returning to the cemetery later that night with her band of Bellas.

"Why are we here?" Aubrey asked, following her friends to where they had buried her father mere hours before.

"You didn't cry at the funeral," Chloe reminded.

"I don't need to-"

"You weren't there when he died," Ashley added. "You should say goodbye to your dad properly."

Aubrey glanced at Ashley, and remembered the conversation that had led to this moment, when Ashley had been musing that the funeral service for Aubrey's dad was a far cry from the funerals she had been to growing up in Louisiana, especially when visiting relatives in New Orleans, the muted somber affair a major difference from the celebrations of life that she was used to.

And then Amy had asked why Aubrey hadn't delivered a eulogy, the blonde answering that she didn't know what she would say, to which Beca had asked if she would have wanted to.

The long silence had been Aubrey's unspoken confession, and they had all piled into Cynthia Rose's van and made their way to the memorial park.

She didn't know why they were drinking, though. With the exception of Cynthia Rose, who was the only one who knew how to drive her stick-shift van, they each held a bottle of beer in their hands.

Aubrey was leaning against Stacie, sitting in front of her with the brunette's legs bracketing her body, as they watched Amy "pour one out" to Aubrey's father.

"He would have told you that's a waste of perfectly good beer, you know." Aubrey felt compelled to share. "Once upon a time, he was this real, salt of the earth kind of guy, ex-Marine, build-stuff-with-your-hands kinds of guy, but he was a total beer snob."

"Oh, so you came by it honestly." Chloe laughed from her seat beside Beca, who kept looking around, worried that being in a cemetery was illegal, and it was the _South_ , so there was the possibility that the place was haunted.

"So how'd he go from that guy to someone who's friends with the extremely Republican?" Amy asked.

Aubrey sighed. "Two daughters." She glanced at the grave marker for her father, pending the tombstone being made. "He can't protect us all the time, but he was going to make sure the world protected us when he couldn't."

"And this is the same guy who thought teaching you to shoot a gun was a wise decision?" Beca wondered, turning her attention to the conversation around her.

"I really wish I'd shot the bear trap you were in." Aubrey retorted.

"And if you'd missed and hit me?" Beca shot back.

The smile Aubrey gave her wasn't comforting. "I don't miss."

Beca paused, frowning, and slowly took cover behind Chloe.

"My dad died of a heart attack," Cynthia Rose suddenly said, drawing everyone's attention. She frowned. "I just realized that your dad died of a stroke, and I don't know the difference between a stroke and a heart attack is."

They all turned to Stacie, who frowned at them. "Just because I'm in the Sciences doesn't mean I know that stuff."

"A heart attack is when the blood supply to the heart is reduced or cut off. Less blood, less oxygen, more strain on the heart." Ashley explained. "A stroke is when the blood supply to the brain is affected. Less blood, less activity; more blood, too much pressure in the skull."

They all stared at her.

"I trained as a volunteer EMT." Ashley explained.

Beca, who saw Ashley regularly in LA and knew about her workload as a production assistant, frowned. "When?"

"In school?"

"What?" They all exclaimed.

"When did you find the time to do that?" Amy wondered aloud.

Beca and Chloe turned to each other in confusion, and asked each other: "Did you know about this?"

Aubrey kept her gaze on Cynthia Rose. "When did your dad die?"

"High school. I was fifteen." Cynthia Rose informed her. Her gaze flickered to Stacie, and then back to Aubrey. "You go through something like that… I'm glad I had Denise, you know?"

Aubrey smiled faintly in understanding. "I know."

"What about you, Ashley? What's your dad like?" Amy questioned.

Ashley shook her head. "No idea."

"What?" Amy asked, as they all turned to her.

Ashley shrugged. "He, like, took off when I was five."

Aubrey frowned at her. "And you never heard from him again?"

"Not until, I don't know, college? My mom made sure I had a relationship with my grandparents on his side, and they told me he wanted to catch up."

"Did you?" Beca asked.

"No." Ashley shook her head. "I liked my life without him. I wasn't sure I could accept what changes would have been involved if I'd let him back in." She smiled wryly. "I don't know what I'll do if my grandparents died and I have to see him, though."

"Well, when that day arrives, we're making the trip with you." Chloe promised.

"If you want." Beca added quickly.

Ashley smiled. "Thanks."

"Stacie?" Chloe prompted, turning to the girl.

Stacie shrugged. "Oldest story in the book."

Beca smiled wryly. "How old were you when they split up?"

"Eight or nine. It was a long, drawn out process." She admitted. "I mean, he tries, and I used to see him all the time, he didn't move, so he was just _there_ while I was growing up. He's great, and I miss him, but it always felt different, once he'd left."

Ashley nodded. "Jessica says the same thing about her mom. Do you wonder what it would have been like if he had primary custody?"

Stacie shook her head. "No, that's… that would have been hell for both of us, I think. He wouldn't have known the first thing to do with a pubescent, much less a teenage, girl."

"Maybe you would've been an even bigger nerd." Aubrey teased.

Stacie playfully growled. "Or I'd be less attracted to nerds, and then where would you be?"

"Okay, no, stop that, you two are gross enough as it is." Beca said.

"And I thought we'd agreed on documentary evidence?" Amy demanded.

Cynthia Rose lifted her phone, LED light on the ready. "We'll take that evidence now."

"No." Aubrey scowled at her, turning away from the oppressive bright light.

Cynthia Rose frowned, but obediently put her phone away again.

Sensing the momentary distraction was over, Stacie glanced over at Lilly. "What was your dad like?"

Lilly shrugged, and in her characteristic zero-decibel whisper that no one could hear, explained that her father was in counterintelligence and protected state secrets.

The group paused for a moment, allowing the statement a moment of acknowledgment even if they hadn't actually heard it. The silence was broken when Amy said, "My dad gives the best questionable advice."

"My dad thinks his advice is golden." Beca grumbled. She frowned. "Seriously, he was right like _one_ time."

"That 'one time' was about you attending Barden, Beca, I don't think you get to complain." Stacie pointed out.

Chloe laughed, and raised her hand, palm out, in Stacie's direction. "Long distance high five."

Stacie pretended to slap Chloe's hand in response.

Beca rolled her eyes. "Nerds."

* * *

When everyone headed back to the van, Aubrey hung back, reluctant to leave her father's graveside just yet.

She had been at The Lodge when her sister had called her to tell her that her father had a stroke, that he hadn't made it to the hospital. At that point she had gone on autopilot, had flown home on the next flight out, and arrived at a household with a mother stunned at suddenly being a widow, and a sister whose grief was matched only by her helplessness at dealing with the aftermath.

None of them had been able to say goodbye to the man who had shaped their lives.

But her mother had lived a lifetime with her husband. Andie had left for college, lived a whole life away, only to come back, and had made her peace with the fact that she was the first born but she wasn't the one who held the keys to the kingdom, that she wasn't the one expected to do great things.

Aubrey's relationship with her father was marked by the past four years, four years in which she had deliberately stayed away from him.

Their relationship had never been easy, everyone noted that they were too much alike to really get along. Stubborn and headstrong, their personalities clashed so easily, even as she had been one of the most precious things to him and she had looked up to him like no other. He drove her to greatness, she couldn't deny that, but their relationship was marked by her failures, as he expressed disappointment far easier than pride.

(Sometimes she wondered if she was just harder on herself to make it easier to accept why he never told her he was proud of her.)

His behavior four years ago had been the breaking point, when her failure to meet his standards went in direct contradiction to something she had begun to want for herself, more than her desire to make him proud. Maybe Stacie had been right, maybe she _had_ drawn out the stand-off, maybe she had been too involved in the fight.

Aubrey choked on a laugh, the urge to cry contrasting with the irony she found herself in. "God, I hated you so much sometimes."

It's easy to say it, because she knows the truth behind it: she had loved him most, had clung to his every word, had sought his approval, had repeated his words to justify her behavior.

And he had used that against her, when she had someone she loved enough to break his rules and go against everything he had ever taught her. In return she had used his own tenets against him: the pride she never got from him, the success he always instilled in her to achieve, the single-minded focus that would help her accomplish anything she set her mind to.

And she had set her mind on making him pay for making Stacie leave her.

And yet she had Stacie back. She had a graduate degree. As Beca once said, she was closer to world domination, and despite herself, she knew she had him to thank for it.

And for all their faults, their stops and starts and the way she and her father never really could get along in harmony, she gets it now, the way he had loved her, despite it all.

He was the man who yelled at people who had been complicit to her getting hurt, and then stew in silent anger in the car as he drove her to the hospital to get her arm examined. He was the man who didn't coddle her while her arm was broken, but made sure she didn't get hurt on his watch again.

He was the man who pushed her to play a sport only to stop watching after she had gotten injured, realizing now, years after the fact, that he had stopped watching because he was always ready to tear the place apart if she ever got hurt again.

And with that realization she remembered the words to lullaby he would sing to her when she'd been younger, one of the few songs she had ever heard him sing, songs he stopped singing when he stopped just being her dad and became the man the community gave credence to. Her mother had been a purveyor of her love for pop music, but her understanding of the emotional depth of music came from him.

 _Well the sun is surely sinking down, but the moon is slowly rising._  
 _So this old world must still be spinning round and I still love you._

Aubrey turned when she felt Stacie join her and smiled faintly, taking the hand Stacie offered, grateful when Stacie didn't say anything, didn't rush her, didn't remind her that they really should be leaving.

Turning back to her father's final resting place, she whispered the next part.

 _So close your eyes, you can close your eyes, it's all right._  
 _I don't know no love songs and I can't sing the blues anymore._  
 _But I can sing this song and you can sing this song when I'm gone._

.

.

end.

* * *

Lyrics are from the song You Can Close Your Eyes.

And yes, that was a Buffy reference.


End file.
